Chapter 8 #2
“Sorry about that,” Freddie said, still staring at the song lyrics on the page—including the ones he’d written but had no memory of. He shook his head, then looked up at me. “Lyrics aside, always having to move around that much—that must have been really hard, Cass.”
“Thanks. But it’s the way my dads’ business works. It’s just the way it’s always been.”
He looked at me for just a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you’re mad at them.”
I just blinked at him. “Mad at who? My dads?” Freddie nodded, and I just shook my head automatically. I was honestly a little surprised by the turn this was taking—it hadn’t come up in any of our conversations so far. “I’m not mad at them.” The second I said it, though, I wondered if it was true.
“It’s okay if you are,” he said, giving me steady look as we approached the door that I now knew would take us backstage. “It can’t have been easy, growing up like that.”
“Well, no. But…” I stopped as Freddie pulled the door open for me. I stepped into the corridor, my thoughts spinning. Was I actually mad at them? Had I been for a while now—and just hadn’t let myself see it?
“Hey, Violet,” Freddie said, as he approached the three stagehands playing their poker game. We were here earlier than before, and I noticed that the pot in the center had a lot less money in it. “Who’s winning?”
“Me, so far. I just can’t tell if Van is bluffing,” she said, raising her eyebrow at the guy across from her.
“He is,” I said immediately, remembering how the last hand had gone.
“What?” the guy, Van, asked, frowning at me. He looked disconcerted. “Who even are you?”
“No one,” I said quickly, even as I widened my eyes at Violet, trying to communicate that I knew what I was talking about. “Never mind.”
“Let me get a picture,” Freddie said, taking out his phone like before. He snapped it, then smiled at them. “Nice.”
“We should go,” I said, nodding toward the greenroom. I was all too aware that shrimp-eating could be happening right now, and we were wasting precious time.
“Right,” Freddie said, his expression growing more serious. “Of course. See you guys.” We hurried down the hall, and I remembered a second too late that he’d left his phone again—but I figured we’d deal with that after we’d talked to Alfie.
Freddie pushed open the door to the greenroom. Tristram/Doug was sitting on the couch, twirling his drumstick, and Alfie was holding a plate, the fork in his hand traveling up to his mouth….
“Prawns!” Freddie yelled. Alfie jumped, and his plate fell to the floor.
“What?” he asked, looking spooked as he glanced around in a panic. “What’s going on?”
“Did you eat any of it yet?” I asked, hurrying up to him. He just frowned, looking from me to Freddie like he was trying to figure out what exactly was happening. “The shrimp,” I said, my voice rising. “I mean, prawns. Did you eat any?”
“I had some at the strip mall. I brought the rest with me. Uh—who are you, again?”
“That’s Cass,” Freddie said, picking up the shrimp stir-fry plate from the floor and tossing it in the garbage. “She’s very worried about people getting food poisoning.”
I shot a look at Freddie that he returned with a grin. “Do you feel okay?”
“Well, I’m a little shaken up,” Alfie said. “I was just enjoying my dinner when you lot burst in here.”
“Sounds like they were trying to help,” Tristram/Doug pointed out, in his American accent. Then he paused, his eyes widening. “I mean,” he said, in what was very likely the worst English accent I’d ever heard. “They were just ‘elpin’, wot?”
“It’s okay, Doug,” I assured him. “I know the truth.”
“Oh thank god,” he said in his regular voice, relaxing back against the couch cushions.
“You know about Doug?” Freddie asked me in a low voice.
“We’ve met before,” I assured him. I glanced over at Alfie, who was making his way over to the snack table, still looking disconcerted. “What do you think? Are we okay?”
“Well,” Freddie said, knitting his brows in concentration. “Hopefully? Maybe the ones he ate at the restaurant were fine, and it’s only the unrefrigerated prawns—the ones he ate here—that were the problem?”
I nodded—that made sense. And plus, in the other loops, the sickness came over Alfie pretty soon after he’d eaten the shrimp. And since he seemed okay now, hopefully we were out of the woods. “Let’s hope so,” I said, giving him a smile.
“So, um,” Freddie said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Did you want to hang out, or…”
I did—but even more than that, I wanted to try to find Bryony. If we’d finally fixed this, it meant time with my best friend was slipping away, and I wanted to get as much of it as possible. “I should let you rehearse,” I said. “Big night tonight, right?”
“Well, I’ll try not to let you down. Are you getting totally sick of our music? How many times have you seen it?”
“You’ve been to more than one Grad Nite?” Alfie asked, wandering back over with a plate of crudité and chips. “I didn’t think that was allowed.”
“Oh no, I haven’t seen performances. Just clips.
Online,” I said quickly, trying to cover.
He nodded, apparently satisfied with this, and flopped down next to Tristram/Doug on the couch.
“I actually haven’t ever seen you guys play,” I said to Freddie in a lower voice when I was sure Alfie was out of earshot.
“Every time I’ve tried, you’ve never been able to actually perform. ”
“Right,” Freddie said, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s hope we’ve changed that tonight.”
I nodded. “But you have to be really careful, okay? Don’t eat anything. Every single time, you’ve had an allergic reaction.”
“I won’t,” he promised me, making the cross-your-heart gesture for good measure. “But maybe after—hoping it all goes well—we can hang out?”
I smiled. This wasn’t the first time Freddie had asked me this, but hearing it still made me just as happy. “I’d like that.”
He opened the door to walk me out, and we headed down the hallway. My feet slowed when I saw that Niall was standing next to the stagehands playing poker. He was frowning as he looked down at something. He turned slightly, and I realized what he was looking at was Freddie’s phone.
“Niall?” Freddie called.
Niall startled, and for just a moment there was a caught-out expression on his face before it was replaced by the big, confident smile I’d seen onstage. “Hey, mate,” he drawled, holding up Freddie’s phone. “Looks like you forgot this again.”
“Agh,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “I really have to be better about it. My mum always said—”
“Why were you looking at his phone?” I interrupted, trying to figure out what I’d just seen.
“What do you mean?” Niall asked, his smile widening, getting even more charming. But his eyes, I couldn’t help but notice, didn’t match this expression—they were cold and calculating. “And who are you, again? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“This is Cass,” Freddie said quickly, stepping in between us and taking his phone from Niall. “She’s here for Grad Nite.”
“Did you two just meet?” Niall asked, looking between us like he was trying to work something out.
“Kind of. Feels like I’ve known him longer, though.” Freddie laughed at that, and I smiled at him. “I should let you rehearse. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Niall said, giving me another grin that didn’t meet his eyes and clapping Freddie on the back. “Come on, superstar. Let’s get ready.”
“I’ll see you after?” Freddie called, as Niall steered him away.
“Absolutely,” I called after him, crossing my fingers that this would turn out to be true. They disappeared into the greenroom, and I just stood in the hallway, trying to work out what was bothering me about Niall. But after nothing came to mind, I tried to shake it off.
I headed around the corner, where Violet was opening the equipment cases and starting to unpack them. I gave her a nod as I headed to the exit, but she straightened up and smiled at me. “Hey!” she said cheerfully. “Thanks for the tip about Van. He was totally bluffing. How did you know?”
“Oh,” I said, with a shrug, “I guess I’m just good at reading people? Have a good night.”
“You too,” she called after me, going back to work.
I took a deep breath, then pushed my way out the doors, heading off to find my best friend.